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The following account, dear reader, is a recollection and retelling of the story of the first imp. The last devil born from the original primordial pit at the dawn of time, and the lowliest speck of that first generation. It recounts the tale of Thozronnath the pitiful and his steady rise from obscurity, perpetually stuck as a punching bag for his betters until the day hell itself spat him out. The information presented here is pieced together from eye-witness reports and second hand hearsay, sometimes from creatures with more than two hands. I can not tell you with any degree of accuracy how much of it is true as it begins long before our time and it's true ending lies far unto the future still. I can tell you one thing though, it was confusing as hell.

Cover: Illustration for John Milton's Paradise Lost by Gustave Doré (1866), a thankfully public domain image.

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Disclaimer: I am not a writer. I am a student. I am not a writing student. This is liable to contain errors, bad practice, mistakes, and poor choices.